Sandy's Traitorous Blade

Status: Finished

Sandy's Traitorous Blade

Status: Finished

Sandy's Traitorous Blade

Short Story by: Alec Durbervilles


Genre: Erotica


Sandy carried a knife to feel safer when she was out. But sometimes your best friend can become your worst enemy.


Sandy carried a knife to feel safer when she was out. But sometimes your best friend can become your worst enemy.


Submitted: February 28, 2014

A A A | A A A


Submitted: February 28, 2014



Erik has invited me over to meet a friend of his from way back. He says he has always had a thing for her. But she hooked up with another friend from high school and he lost track of her for eight years.

Then, out of the blue, she showed up again at her parents' house. She's no longer with what's-his-name and Erik wants to make his moves on her. This is stupid, I know, but he seems to think I'll be some kind of wingman for him.

So he has invited her over to his house and he wants to watch movies and drink and just be comfortable with her. His brother will be there. What the fuck does he need me for?

But somehow, stupidly, I agree. Who knows? Maybe she's hot and maybe she couldn't care less about Erik and maybe we'll hit it off.

I show up at 7. Erik and his brother are there of course - it's their house fer Chrissakes - but Sandy isn't there. Fucking figures. She stood him up.

"Hey losers. Gimme a beer."

Erik's brother tosses me a can of Labatt Blue Light and I catch it one handed an inch from my face. Stupid fucker. He hates me because I refuse to learn his name. Erik introduced us a year ago and his name went in one ear and out the other. A week later, I called him Mitchell. I don't know where that came from. It just seemed right at the time. He corrected me, but from then on, all I ever called him was Mitchell.

Mitchell thinks he gets me back by calling me Alex or Alan or Albert instead of my real name - Alec. But I have an advantage. He really does know my name and so I can tell his intentional mangling of Alec is just a weak limp-wristed slap in my direction. My secret weapon against him is that I honestly don't know his name. A year has passed and I've even got Erik, his own brother calling him Mitchell as well. So I never have to hear his real name. When I call him Mitchell, it stings him all the worse because there's no lie built into it.

"So she stood you up did she? What's the plan now? Is there a game on?"

Erik says, "She didn't stand me up."

"Well? When are you gonna pick her up then?" I answer.

"Hey shit-for-brains, I'm not picking her up. She lives right down the street. She'll be here soon enough."

Well I felt stupid. But what kind of middle school date is this? The girl next door? Seriously? And sure enough, right on cue, we hear a knock at the door. I don't wait. I want to jump on this and see if she's tap-worthy. I open the front door and see her. She has a kind of disarming look. I expected her to be decked out in some kind of killer attire, like maybe she's on the rebound from what's-his-name. But no. She stands before me with her crazy dark hair and her sweet kiss-me lips wearing a knitted sweater over a black tank top. She wears a long skirt that comes down to just below her knees. But what I notice last is that she's wearing some seriously sick-looking combat boots, her black wool socks just peeking out over the top and just below the hem of her skirt.

"Hi, I'm Alec," I say.

"Hello, Alec. I'm Sanrevelle. But you can call me Sandy."

"Well, OK, Sandy. It's a deal, if you'll call me Alec."

I thought that was kind of witty but she blew right past it either like it was simply too stupid to comment about or like she missed it completely. I'm gonna go with the "too stupid" explanation.

She comes in and we all drink beer for a while. We chat, we watch a movie, we joke around. I gotta admit it was low-key but fun anyway. Sandy did a good job of flirting with all of us. She has a way about her that says she's one of the guys but that she'd be oh so fuckable.

I was getting vibes from her all evening long. I think we all were. And what was weird is that she didn't even seem to know she was doing it. It just came naturally to her.

At one point, we were tired of movies so we tried to get her to flash us her boobs. She clearly didn't want to do it and she said so. "I'm sorry guys, but I'm not gonna expose my boobs to you." But she said it with such a laugh in her voice, we all took it to mean, "Of course I'll show you my boobs. But you'll just have to work a little harder."

"Come on Sandy. We're all friends here. What's a little boobage among friends?" I thought it was a good argument. Maybe I had drunk too much beer.

But I followed up with the clincher. "What can I do that will make you willing to show us your breasts?" I said "us" but Erik and Mitchell were fading fast.

Honestly? I thought she wouldn't touch that one with a ten-foot pole. But instead, and I believe thinking it would put an end to the topic, she said, "If you drop your pants and expose your cock AND stroke it until you're hard, I'll show you my boobs."

It didn't take me more than 3 seconds to stand up, unbuckle my belt, drop my pants, and take my cock in hand. You should have seen the look on her face. First of all, she was surprised that I would jump on that shit so fast, but secondly, she had a curious, hungry look in her eyes as she fixed her gaze on my manhood.

Mitchell was fast asleep. He never could handle his liquor. Erik was still awake but he was living about three minutes in the past, laughing at things that Sandy and I had already forgotten about. My guess is that Erik had no clue what I was about to get Sandy to do.

My eyes are on hers. Her eyes are on my cock. I'm standing about three feet in front of her and her face is level with my cock. I could swear she has a hungry look on her face. She wants my cock in her mouth.

I begin to stroke myself. Ordinarily, I would have a difficult time making myself hard with an audience. But her full, dick-sucking lips were pouting in a way that made me ache to be inside her mouth. I got hard in an instant. It helps that I'm kind of big. Girls tend to have a fascination for a fat cock.

I let go of my cock and say, "OK, Sandy. Your turn." My cock points at her accusingly.

"Oh my," she says. She's clearly flustered by the speed at which I turned this thing around. "Ahem," she clears her throat. "I, um... I guess a deal is a deal. Heh, heh," she laughs nervously.

Sandy stands up, slowly opens her buttoned sweater, pulls it back over her shoulder to give her access to the strap of her tank top. I watch as she lowers the strap of her tank top and of her bra down over her left shoulder. I see her in slow motion as she places her right hand over her left breast under her bra. Her left hand pushes her tank top and bra down so that I see her hand-covered left breast.

"Eek. I can't believe I'm doing this," she says in that sexy voice of hers.

"Keep going, Sandy. A deal is a deal," I say, goading her into showing me more.

She hesitantly lowers her right hand to cup the underside of her breast and hold it out so that I can see her erect nipple. I'm still standing with my cock exposed and at full attention. Just as I begin to approach her to take this thing to the next level, she releases her breast and raises her clothes back to cover herself. Damnit.

She covers herself up and leaves me feeling stupid with my cock out and my pants bunched around my ankles. However, instead of getting dressed, I step out of my shoes, and completely remove my pants. I look stupid bare-assed but with a shirt on, so I pull my shirt up over my head.

I'm totally naked and Sandy stands there with a shocked look on her face like she doesn't know whether to be amused or scared.

"Sandy. Remove your clothes," I order. She just stands there. She must think I'm joking. Taking a few steps closer to her I repeat myself. "I said 'Strip.' Now."

"I, I... Alec. I'm not going to do this. Please get dressed."

My cock is still rock hard and bouncing almost painfully as I take the last step toward her. "Sandy, you know you want this. We're going to fuck. It can be hard or it can be easy. Take off your clothes."

Even after my little speech, she still stands frozen, her hands in odd positions near her body. I see her right hand lift her sweater. I think she's going to unfasten her skirt. I stand relaxed, eager to see her strip for me.

But you can imagine my surprise when she whips out something from under her sweater. She flicks it in a strange way and I hear a 'click' and realize she's holding a menacing looking black knife. But it doesn't scare me. It actually angers me.

"Really, bitch? You're pulling a knife on me?" I immediately stride toward her and reach for her to take her toy away. Quick as a cat, she slashes her knife across my body. I didn't feel a thing. She's just fucking trying to scare me with it. But I feel wet and kind of strange. I look down and there's a razor line running diagonally across my chest, oozing blood.

It all happened so fast. She backhanded me from her left to her right but in the time it took me to realize what had happened, her right hand was still at its extended apex up over her right shoulder. I am pissed. I lunge and grab her right arm as she tries to bring her knife to bear on me again.

We tumble to the floor, It's a wonder we don't crash into furniture. But I'm on top of her and I have her right wrist in my left hand. Her bad-ass knife still firmly in her grasp but fortunately out of commission. I wrench it away from her as I drip bright red blood onto her sweater.

"You're gonna be sorry you did that, bitch." With my right hand I slap her face hard. She lets out a short, sharp scream as her face recoils from my slap. She's lucky I didn't ball my fingers into a fist and slug her.

While straddling her and while she was still recovering from my slap, I examine her knife. Goddamn. This thing looks lethal. The handle is black. The blade is black. The sharpened edge is white as the naked surgical steel glistens out from under its carbon nitride finish. Not only is the edge dangerous and evil looking, but the back of the blade near the handle has sharpened teeth that look like they were intended to cut a tree branch but will actually rip flesh like the teeth of a shark.

My first inclination is to use it to cut her clothes off. That would teach her a lesson for cutting me. However, I have a better idea. I get up and stand over her. "On your feet bitch." Relieved to be out from under me, Sandy gets up.

"Alec. Please. I'm sorry I cut you. But you shouldn't have come at me like that. It's a wonder I didn't kill you." She actually thinks I'm letting her off the hook. Un-fuckin-believable.

Pointing her knife at her, I say, "This is the last time I'm gonna tell you - Strip. Take off that sweater."

"Please Alec. This has gone too..." I raise her knife into a slashing position and start to move toward her menacingly.

"OK, OK," she says, whimperingly. She slowly and reluctantly removes her sweater. She just stands, waiting.

"Keep going. Drop that skirt. I want to see what's underneath." I point toward her skirt with the knife.

Tears are appearing in her eyes. They begin to run down her face. "P-please," she sobs. "Don't do this." He voice is pathetic. So much pleading in it, as if that will help.

But her hands move shakily toward the fastener of her skirt. She loosens it and it falls to her feet. "Step out of it," I say. She does, her black combat boots looking chunky and out of place with her bare legs. Oddly, the sight excites me. My cock is still achingly hard.

"Put your hands on your head and turn around."

She looks at me as if not able to believe what I just told her to do. But she complies - slowly, shakingly, with fear and trepidation. Her hands rise up to the top of her head.

I approach her from behind and, using her knife, I slice through her tank top and bra from the bottom all the way up to her neck. The fabric cuts like butter under the wicked edge of her knife.

"Now turn around," I say. Sandy slowly turns to face me, hands still on her head. "Remove those rags." I order. She can't or won't. She just stands there paralyzed in a kind of fear and indecision.

"Sandy, TAKE THOSE FUCKIN CLOTHES OFF... NOW." I shout. She jumps in fear. The knife is scary but my anger is scarier. Or maybe it's the thought of her lethal knife in the hands of an angry man that does it. Either way, she lets her ruined tank top and bra slide off and to the ground. She stands now before me in panties and combat boots.

"Now the panties," I say, almost calmly. "It's OK Sandy. You're almost there." She starts to lower her panties, a look of humiliation and shame on her face. That look of shame and mortification combined with her tears and her fear, are angelic. Or at least, she looks like a fallen angel. No wings. No power. No more look of smug superiority beneath her teasing and flirty demeanor.

Her black panties drop to the floor and she steps out of them. "Now stand straight up. Let me look at you." She gathers what's left of her dignity and straightens her body, head still downturned. I approach and put the tip of the blade under her chin. I lift her chin. I want to see her face but more importantly, I want her to see my eyes and where I look as I gaze upon her nakedness.

Stepping back, I take all of her in. I look at her beautiful breasts, so full and perfect. "You have beautiful breasts Sandy. Your nipples are simply perfect." Her eyes begin to drop from mine. "No. Keep your eyes on mine," I warn. Her eyes jump back to mine quickly.

I continue my survey, scanning down her body. When I see her bare pussy, my eyes and my mind zeros in on it. She's standing with her legs together but I want more. "Stand with your feet farther apart," I tell her. Her head drops and I don't admonish her because she slowly spreads her feet apart by about a foot. "More," I tell her. She spreads them another foot apart.

I approach. "Put your hands back up on your head." She does. I move right up next to her and put the flat of her blade against he raised bicep. I slowly slide the blade down her arm like I'm spreading butter on her skin.

I spread that butter all the way along her arm to her shoulder and then her clavicle and finally her neck. I let the tip of the blade drag against her skin. Only inches away from her, I hiss into her ear, "Don't move a muscle."

With the mortal side of the blade firmly pressed into the flesh of her neck, I reach with my other hand to her left breast. I cup her breast lovingly and then, suddenly and harshly, take her nipple between my fingers and squeeze. I feel it harden instantly between my fingers. I whisper, "Oh, you fucking slut."

Her eyes close in an attempt to hide the shame that resides there. But I know better. She's getting aroused. "You're getting wet, aren't you? God, you're a whore." I reluctantly let my hand slide down her breast and abdomen and across her mound. When I feel her bare lips under my fingers, I pause there in an attempt to feel any wetness. "Are you wet down here, Sandy?"

She says nothing but as soon as my middle finger penetrates between her folds, I feel it. A slick, slippery wetness that permeates her womanhood. "Oh, yes, Sandy. Your pussy is telling me you've being lying to me. Your pussy wants this." My mouth is an inch from her ear as I say this and she feels my breath warm and dangerous and erotic.

I fuck her with my finger until my entire hand is wet. I keep my ear close to her mouth so I can hear her hot breath, her moans and sighs. But she is very good at controlling her voice. All I hear as she bathes my hand in her juices are the rhythmic sounds of her breathing.

"Sandy, drop to your knees. Slowly. I don't want to cut you yet. Drop to your knees and suck my cock. I want those whore's lips around me. I want to feel your warm mouth surround my cock." I let the knife come away from her neck as she slowly drops to her knees.

"Please Alec. I beg of you," she says in a whimpering, trembling voice. "Please don't do this."

"SHUT UP, SLUT." I slap her hard on the side of her head and she squeals. But she quickly steadies herself by grabbing my hips in both hands. "That's right, Sandy. Use your hands too."

Until this moment she had been keeping her hands on her head. But once on her knees, she takes my cock into both her hands and holds it up to her face.

"If it helps Sandy, I'll close my eyes and let you do your work in privacy. But I lie. I want to see her full lips first kiss and then eat my cock. That moment of delicious anticipation as her lips part and approach within a hair's breadth of the tip of my hard cock, are worth all my effort and all my bleeding. My abdomen is covered in my slick redness. I honestly look like a prehistoric caveman whose body is covered in red ochre for some primeval hunting ritual.

She licks the top of my cock and then kisses it. Her hands grasp my shaft like a trumpet as she takes more of my cock into her mouth. Oh, God. The warmth and the slickness of her saliva so much like the slick wetness of her pussy, harden me to my fullest. "That's right bitch. Suck that cock. Suck me off and swallow it."

She gets to work on my cock, falling back on her training - she's obviously been here before. Without telling her to do it, she reaches one hand under my balls and encircles them. She caresses them lovingly as she takes more and more of my length into her mouth. "That's right. slut. You've almost got me there. Don't stop. Unngh. Oh God, yes. Yes."

I can't help myself. With her knife in one hand I grasp her head with both hands and force my cock all the way down her throat. I pump her vigorously three, four, five times as she gags and I shoot my load down her throat. "Ohhhh, yes. Fuck, you've got a beautiful mouth."

My spasming cock finishes pumping my load into her and I pull out slowly so that she can taste some of what I just injected down her throat. As frantic as she must have been in those gagging moments with no air and no idea how long it would last, she never let go of my balls, nor did she squeeze me. "Sandy, you've had lots of practice doing this haven't you?"

I push her to the floor and she lands on her back, legs spread, knees bent, as if I had posed her in this fuckable position. My cock has softened a bit but I'm still quite engorged. If I find the proper stimulation, I can fuck this bitch once and for all.

Before she can scramble out of that position or try to scurry away, I straddle her, pinning her left arm against her side with my legs. "Sandy, now you're going to pay for cutting me."

"Oh, no, please Alec. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what I was doing. I wouldn't..." her voice tapers off into an incoherent babble.

Her right arm is free and raised above her head. I take her wrist and, leaning forward, stretch it out above her on the floor. With her black knife in my left hand, I place the blade across her forearm and begin to press it into her flesh. "Bitch! This is for slicing me." I press down on the blade until I see a thin red line of blood appear along the length of the blade.

"No, no, please," she squeals as she feels the flesh of her inner arm opening up in a thin red line. With the blade pressed into the soft flesh of her inner forearm I slowly move the blade sideways in a slicing direction. "Arrrrghh." Sandy's scream is piercing, but the guys are dead drunk and the music is still playing loudly. During my cutting of her flesh, she attempts to squirm, to pull, to struggle, but I have her stretched out and held down so firmly, she can do nothing; nothing at all save endure it in her panic and her fear.

I pick up the blade and look at the three inch line across her forearm. Sandy still screams. "Help me. Erik, you fucking bastard. Wake up. Help me." Her panties are on the floor right by her head. I grab them and stuff them into her mouth. "Keep screaming and I'll cut your throat."

Her screams reduce to a panicked whimper as I resume work on her arm. Just above her first cut, I place the blade parallel and press it in the same way. Another thin red cut appears and more blood begins flowing. She is reduced to a whimpering mess, sobbing and incoherent.

I repeat the process three more times until she has five red parallel lines all bleeding messily onto her arm and the floor. The knife has her blood on it. "Sandy, open your eyes. Look at me," I command. She senses I'm done marking her and she looks up at me, tears streaming from her eyes. I lick the blood off her vicious knife. It tastes like iron. I lick the blade sideways from the spine to the edge, cleaning both sides this way. Then, I take the entire blade into my mouth and close my lips over it. I draw it out of my mouth slowly. "Umm, Sandy. You're delicious." Feeling aroused by this feast and by the look of horror on her face, I lean down to her still outstretched arm and lick once along her wounded forearm.

Looking at my handiwork, I realize my cock is hard again. It's pressing into her breasts. Finally, I release her arm, take her panties out of her mouth and force my mouth onto hers, kissing her deeply and probingly. The blood on my face smears all over hers.

"Spread your legs Sandy. I'm gonna fuck your whore pussy till you're sore and battered."

She doesn't fight or resist. It's like her struggles have left her spent and listless. I position myself between her wide-spread legs. Without even touching my cock I drag the head of my rejuvenated manhood down her slit until I feel her opening. I wriggle back and forth a few times until the head of my cock is slightly engulfed by her lips.

"Tell me what you want Sandy. I'm not gonna fuck you until you tell me you want it."

Indecision and doubt flood her mind. "He can't possibly mean that, can he?" she must be thinking. But I take her face into my hands once again and kiss her deeply. She doesn't shake her head or fight me. My tongue probes her mouth and lips and our tongues meet. I pull back. "Tell me what you want."

"It's OK, Sandy. Don't be ashamed. Just say what your body wants. There's no shame in admitting that your pussy is in charge of you."

I look her in the eyes and put the knife to her neck once again. "I'm not telling you what to say. I'm just telling you that you'd better say something."

Finally, in a slow, timid, tired voice - a voice filled with shame and humiliation - she says, "Yes, Alec. Please. Fuck me. Fuck me now."

I plunge into her, burying myself in her body all the way to the hilt. She gasps audibly as my cock spreads her vaginal walls apart and splits her open for first time tonight. She clenches me tightly and I wonder if I'll be able to keep my threat of fucking her till she's sore.

"Oh, fuck, Sandy. Your cunt holds me like a fist." But I concentrate on finding a rhythm and a mindset that will allow me to pump her for as long as I can. Anything to keep my mind's eyes away from the image of my cock spreading her flesh apart and pulling back out to let it return.

I fuck her like this until I lose track of time. I'm zoned out, my eyes closed, working to batter her pussy. I want it red and swollen by the time I'm done. I hear her moans distantly as she cycles through several orgasms both big and small.

When I make the mistake of opening my eyes and see the look of rapturous pleasure on her face I realize I'm not going to hold out much longer. "Tell me what you want Sandy. Tell me what you want from my cock."

Without hesitation, she says, "Fuck me and cum inside me. I want to feel your cum shoot inside me. Do it. Do it now."

Her words put me over the top and I bathe her vagina in my cum. "Oh, fuck yeah, Sandy. FUCK. Your pussy is so sweet." I finish my last strokes and remain motionless while fully embedded inside her. We're both exhausted. But finally I get up from her. I straddle her body and grab her by the throat, choking her until her face begins to turn red. She flails at me with her weakened arms.

"Don't forget, bitch. I own you. Now get dressed and go home. If you tell anyone about this, I'll hunt you down and kill you."

I watch her get up silently and put her tattered clothes back on. She wraps her panties around her bloodied forearm. The blood has already coagulated on her cuts so she doesn't drip or make any more mess on the floor or her clothes.

She walks funny, like she really is sore. Without saying a word, she turns from me to go toward the door. I'm still sitting naked on the sofa next to Mitchell, passed out and oblivious to all that happened only a few feet away from him..

"Hey!" I call to her. She turns to look my direction. I hold up her knife so she can see it. She pauses a moment, unsure what I want. Then she comes back, takes it from my hand and walks out the door.


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